


cinnamon

by renlyne



Series: apparently I write gryles drabbles now [2]
Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 22:06:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12640134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renlyne/pseuds/renlyne
Summary: 01 November 2017"I don’t know why he’s under ‘baked goods’, but [I’ve got] a photo of Harry Styles classed as a baked good by my phone."





	cinnamon

 

“My phone literally has you classed as a cinnamon roll, which was a fun discovery to make while on air. Harry Styles, a baked good! Always goes so well when I mention you on radio, that wasn’t at all badly thought o—”

Which was an exciting way to start a phone call, much more interesting than _hello_. Christ.

“Did you just…what? A cinnamon— what are you talking about?” Harry was laughing down the line, apparently bewildered.

Nick would like to think that this was why he wasn’t usually impulsive, except obviously he was literally always impulsive. “You know, internet thing. Cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure, all that.” Harry evidently did not know, if the incredulity still coming through his snickering was anything to go by. “Oh forget it. You’re such a grandfather, no knowledge of the modern world. I shouldn’t have expected any—”

“Did I really just pause my rehearsals to hear that I’m a pastry?”

“I— Yes. No. I mean, that would depend entirely on if you paused specifically for this phone call, which I’m assuming you—”

“Course I did. What, I’m not going to answer your calls?”

 _Didn’t_ , Nick had been about to say.

Which.

Was fine.

“Of course you are! Who wouldn’t! Love getting phone calls, me. Especially from— I was going to say me, but obviously not, because I don’t, I mean. Fuck, forget it,” he laughed, only the slightest bit hysterically. “Nick Grimshaw Phones Himself For Attention, more at eight. Actually, I mean, I’ve seen worse headlines. I could carry that off.”

“Sure.” Harry sounded like he wasn’t entirely sure whether to laugh or call for medical help, which, honestly, was fair.

Admittedly it was possible Nick was projecting.

“Listen,” he stopped, tried to get himself to take a breath. “Haz, I’m. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. Yesterday. I wanted—” Nick cut off. He hadn’t, was the thing.

Harry spoke when he didn’t go on, “Nick, it’s…don’t worry, really. I knew you weren’t, uh. Actually, how, um. How was it? The weekend, I mean.”

God, were they really— “Uh, good, actually. Yeah, thanks. It was good. We, y’know, we watched the match and, uh,” Nick was suddenly blanking on anything that wasn’t _rode bicycles together_ or _watched telly and then took advantage of the massive bed_ , which. Thank fuck he’d stopped talking.

“Good, that’s. That’s good. I’m really, I’m so glad you had a nice time, and you’re— you’re happy, yeah?”

Nick somehow always managed to be blindsided by the fact that Harry was the sort of person to ask questions like _‘you’re happy?’._

He had to clear his throat, “Yeah,” he managed, “yeah, I’m happy.”

“That’s so— I’m so,” but Nick never got to find out what he was _so_ , because someone called Harry’s name just then, and his voice came through sounding like he’d held the phone away from himself to yell back _coming, just a minute!_ “Sorry, I’ve got to—”

“Yeah, course. Course. Go be a popstar. Good luck tonight, home show and all.”

Harry sounded distracted, and Nick could hear some sort of muffled noise in the background, “Nah, home show was—” and then he cut himself off, and the rustling stopped. “I mean, yeah. Course. I’ll, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, for the radio thing, yeah?”

Home show was—

Nick shook himself, “You will indeed. Don’t stand me up, popstar, I’m not sure my heart could take it. Imagine the masses of angry fangirls, frothing and terrifying and out for my blood.”

“Couldn’t have that.” A beat, “I will though. Answer. I’ll always…”

Deep breathing did wonders for the soul, Nick was finding.

“Thanks, Haz.”

“Yeah. I’ll— I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

And then he was gone, and Nick was—

Well.

He’d answered that one already, hadn’t he.

Nick was happy.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> come cry with me on [tumblr](http://daretomarvel.tumblr.com/) ♡


End file.
